


Changes

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Captured by Neo Umbrella, Sherry Birkin finds herself the object of interest to the Ustanak.  The thing's fascination with B.O.W.s extends beyond just altering himself, and knowing Sherry's history and what the G-Virus can do, he wants to see just how far he can push her.





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



She heard him stomping his way down the halls towards her, her heart starting to pound.  She sat still on the bed in her cell, doing her best to regulate her breathing. 

The woman in purple—Ada—had told Sherry, once the changes started, that Ustanak was quite interested in her again.  He had been a little disappointed with Sherry Birkin after the novelty wore off—Sherry’s healing was a little exciting but she was so utterly _normal_ otherwise.  She could last through his attentions, but he wanted something _else_.

Hearing that she had started to change had piqued his interest again.  The captor explained that few other “partners” Ustanak had—some J’avo, some other things, were in any shape for repeat performances.  And Simmons’s Pet was finally starting to be a little more agreeable to him.

Ada had said that over an intercom, because once things started to change, nobody was going to come near Sherry.  Except Ustanak. 

“I showed him some surveillance footage” Her captor said, a safe distance away from the monsters.  “He thinks you’re beautiful.”

Sherry compartmentalized—she’d heard all sorts of comments about herself over the years she’d spend in labs—“fascinating”, “disturbing”, “potentially dangerous”.  She needed to figure a way out of this, and deal with the changes when she had the opportunity.  She needed to get past Ustanak, then find Jake and get out of here.  The things that Neo Umbrella was doing—from what little she could gather, were beyond the pale. 

A sounded like a sledgehammer was pounding the floor outside her cell.  It slid open, and he had to hunch and twist in order to fit.  Before he had gotten bored with her, she’d tried to slip past him during his visits—impossible given how gigantic he was in comparison to the door, and how rapidly it closed.  Now she just dug her bare feet into the linoleum.

He towered over her, maybe a little less so than when he’d started.  The expression in his face should’ve been unreadable; that mess that simultaneously looked like too much and too little skin over a skull the exact _wrong_ shape.  But she’d gotten used to his stares, and he was looking at her like the very first time he’d been let in her cell. Admittedly, now he was seeing something a little more to his liking, normalcy slowly fading away--she felt the mottled rough skin by her left eye, knew when she closed her right she couldn't see colors right anymore.  He took a few steps towards her.  She stood her ground, wanting to get this over with.  He raised his hand.

She braced herself for the pain.  The impact that’d send her sprawling then him shoving in whatever hole with nothing but contempt.  It didn’t happen this time.  He brushed some strands of hair out of her face, it coming up from its roots without much effort.  The touch was about as gentle as she’d expect was possible for the big thing, but she wasn’t missing teeth or bleeding yet.

He leaned in close, and she stared into his reddish, lopsided eyes.  And laughed.  The light touch, that longing gaze—she’d been allowed to read trashy romance novels growing up, and this was just out of them. Except for the fact they were _monsters_.  She used to imagine her first time in a scenario like that, instead of being left in a bloodied heap after being fucked raw by a monster.

 _Now_ he was interested in romance.

To a point.  When she ruined the moment by laughing, he let out a low grumble and grabbed her hospital gown and pulled, tearing it off of her frame effortlessly.  She backed up at this as he sized her up, reaching with his good hand.  His touch was rough, but not violent like the other times.  He felt the reddish, scaly patch of skin surrounding her vestigial arm, leaned in close at the tumors that Sherry was pretty sure were going to develop into eyeballs.

She wasn’t able to _not_ speculate why she was changing.  Maybe it was it was a result of being injured and allowed to heal so often in rapid succession.  She could walk off internal injuries, physical trauma, all of it.  But the amount of times Ustanak paid her a visit was overtaxing her; the dormant G-virus within her multiplying and spreading.  Maybe.  Maybe it was hormonal, due reproductive activity, brutal and rough as it was, triggering it.  Slowly.  Although the changes were picking up speed.

Then his cold, metal claw wrapped around her torso and hoisted her up, causing her to yelp.  It was _not_ painfully tight, hard to breathe—which meant those previous times he had been doing that on purpose.  She nearly brushed the ceiling as he held her up.  With his free hand, he ran a thick finger across her slit, spread her open.  He leaned in curiously, obviously looking for any changes.  From Ada, she got that he volunteered to become a B.O.W.  He was fascinated by the possibilities. 

That’s why she had been disappointed by her before.  He knew, Ada knew, it seemed the entire world knew that she had been infected—because “infected by a parasite” was a much more comfortable way of looking at the situation than “implanted with an embryonic G-creature by the mutated William Birkin”—or the accurate but cruder “technically raped by her mutant father” when she was a child.  And thanks to Claire, she hadn’t changed.  And he was sorely disappointed at that.  But now, he was showing more of an interest.

She gasped when he slid a finger in.  It was hardly gentle, but compared to their previous encounters, this was loving for him.  There was never any foreplay before this.  The first few times, he’d held her, and perused her carefully before fucking her—violently and painfully—leaving her a mess on the floor of this lab.  He’d rape her, beat her, strangle her, sodomize her. Make her hurt to see how she'd piece herself together.  She’d had her jaw broken to let her mouth open wide enough to accommodate him.  There had been some J’avo before her, Ada had said, but they didn’t last nearly as long as she did.

Now he was trying to provoke a reaction entirely separate from hurting her to see how she’d regenerate.  He was rough, but this time very seemed to be observing her intently.  This was her first time without blood and pain, and part of her wished for that instead.  Because she caught a flicker in his eyes when she moaned at one of the movements of his finger inside her, and he repeated the motion a few times. 

She’d rather disappoint him than entice him.

He grinned when she moaned when he inserted a second finger, that ugly, wilting jack-o-lantern face twisting her stomach.  His movements picked up the pace and so did the sounds she was making.  She tried to kick free.  She felt her face burning as her stomach dropped. 

“Oh my, you seem to be growing on him.”  The intercom said.  The breathy, slightly labored quality of her voice just making it all the worse.  Ustanak liked B.O.W.s.  The woman liked watching Ustanak liking B.O.W.s. 

The metal claw released her and she dropped to the floor.   With his good hand, he fumbled with the front of his pants.  She knew what was happening. Her vision was blurring, and Sherry blinked to clear her eyes before scrambling for the door.  It was utterly futile, but she had to get out of here, had to.

She cried out when she was lifted off, feet pathetically kicking thin air as he lined her up.  With little in the way of ceremony, he pulled her down, around his cock.  It hurt, but not as much as it previously had.  Maybe it was just that he had taken the effort to get her wet.  Maybe it was because she was changing, and part of it was this wasn’t as painful.  She was changing to accommodate him.  She screamed when she had that thought.  This was the gentlest he’d ever been inside her, slowly moving her up and down on his cock.  That she could take his whole length without the blinding pain just made it worse.

Growing up, her biggest fear always had been centered around her condition.  After what happened to her Raccoon City, that hulking thing in Raccoon City that still wore her father’s face when it—infected her, she swore she would’ve preferred death than turning into that mindless monster.  Now, as the thing held her, she would’ve given anything to be more like that thing n Raccoon.  Something that didn’t think, didn’t feel humiliated.  Something that couldn’t stop.

Ustanak picked up the pace, but it still didn’t hurt that much.  The moans and growls she was letting out weren’t pained.  This was sick and awful and she wanted it to end.  In a way unlike how it was going to.  Flesh-on-flesh slapping, his heavy breathing mixed with her whines was sickening, like the sensation creeping up from between her legs as he continued to fuck her.

She tried wriggling her way free, tried to do anything to get off Ustanak.  She shifted and something metal caught the vestigial arm, cut into her skin, at disturbing little lumps and growths she had ceased to be disgusted by.  That hurt, and she howled, and continued to thrash.  He continued to drive into her, filling her and forcing her all the way to the base of his massive cock. 

She was getting closer and closer as he continued slamming into her, hating how good it felt.  The rush of feeling, pleasure and disgust and hate, increased as she shook, trying to stave off  the inevitable.    But as she kept trying to trash out, something _ripped._ Bones didn’t _break_ , but they bent in ways they weren’t supposed to, changed direction and orientation.  It _hurt_ as her body warped; arms, legs, and more arms grew far bigger than they were supposed to.  Skin split and peeled, and something wet dribbled onto the tile floor.  Her voice dropped in pitch and raised in volume. 

It didn’t hurt that much anymore.

He had stopped when she began screaming, and even though she was facing the floor, she could see him appraise her as she stretched and contorted.  Low-level aches completely below how it should have felt hit her as skin sloughed and bones shifted and grew.  Big.  She was aware that the metal arm around her waist was being forced open by her expanding ribs, best attempts to hold her still notwithstanding.

He started fucking her again, while far away, Ada Wong was saying something demeaning about a family resemblance.  She didn’t care, she heard a little hesitation.  Because the changes were coming very fast.  She could see him because she had an eye open back there, one he was staring into.  Clawed toes scraped the floor digging in as she continued to thrash, finally pulling free of his grasp and stomping forward.

Wheeling around, she was surprised to see him at eye level.  She shouldn’t have been.  He was bulkier, bigger, but she was taller.  Every breath felt freezing cold as she inhaled, exhaled, inhaled.  One of her arms, something small and protruding from her ribs, scratched at an itch on her torso.  Something jagged and hard _moved_ as she inhaled.

The intercom was silent. 

He looked at her, slack jawed.  Whatever fucking difficulty she had reading him, he had to have with her.  Because she had asked Claire what her father looked like, near the end, and Claire never told her.  She was aware she probably looked a lot like him now.  She was more like her father than she would’ve liked to admit.

Good.

Slowly, Ustanak good hand reached up, to stroke her face, his stupid obsession overriding whtatever common sense he had.  As her thumb ran down what used to be her cheek, she opened wide and then bit down, hooklike teeth shearing through the thick skin of his hand.  Her arms flailed wildly, and a metal claw clamped around her neck.  She dug in as deep as she could, meeting resistance underneath his skin.  He growled in anger.  The woman over the intercom was yelling again.

Eventually, between him trying to pry her off, him trying to pull his hand free, and the sharpness of her teeth, something gave.  He threw her against the wall, hard enough to dent the sheetrock, losing most of the flesh of his thumb in the process.  

That bastard actually had the gall to look hurt at her rejection.

The room was tiny for him.  For the two of them, two titans, it was like a prizefight in a closet.  Shaking off the daze from hitting the wall, she rushed at him.  The metal claw clamped down on her neck, tightening more and more.  She grabbed onto his shoulder with her top set of arms, pulling them together.  His good hand tried to push her away as she swiped with her lower arms, claws slicing into his abdomen.  He slugged her in the face, or whatever she had left passing for one, teeth falling out.  Her tongue ran along the sharp pints of replacements forcing their way in.  She clawed at the metal arm, digging into metal until something screeched and the claw snapped wide open. 

He was bigger than her, stronger.  She was going to carve him open, tear every bit of him apart.  She was going to… he was bigger and stronger.  Since she started learning to fight, it was a given she’d be fighting people bigger than her, stronger than her.  She needed to _think_ , not wildly swing her claws.  She clamped teeth down on his bicep, digging the claws of her lower set of arms into the metal claw, a combination of stubborn digging and wild flailing causing some hellish noises as metal rent and snapped.  One of her big arms was occupying his left hand; he was bending the limb painfully.

He could break it if that’s what it took.  She had ones to spare.  He did not.  She tore and wrenched and he screamed when the metal arm finally came loose and clattered to the ground.  He clubbed at her with the stump, then nailed her with a haymaker from his good hand when he created a little distance.

He was bigger, stronger.  She had claws teeth and way too many arms.  She was again knocked against the wall hard enough to break through the sheetrock and into the thick layer of metal.  The intercom was screaming for backup, for him to withdraw.  He instead went to close the distance.  She dug her feet into the ground and grappled.  Her one big arm grabbed his leg, the claw that approximated a thumb digging into the side of his knee. 

He was bigger, stronger.  He was also on the ground trying to hold her at bay with one good arm.  She did not stop.  Claws dug into skin, into things hard to cut and easy to cut.  He punched and kicked and she kept at it.  After a punch to her side made something _pop_ and dropped her to her knee, he grabbed her head and drove it into the tile floor.  He took the opportunity to get back on his feet.

It was awkward, sidestepping the punch he threw; there was too much of her to dodge perfectly.  But with aiming for her shoulder, at eyeball staring at him, she leaned in; taking the punch to the solar plexus.  Something inside shifted painfully as he connected with a series of bony spine, but she could feel blood welling up where his knuckles were cut up..  Before he could pull back, she grabbed his wrist with her two hands, and his shoulders with her other two. 

She had four arms.  He had one.

She decided he had too many.

He spun, trying to dislodge her as she dug a massive claw into his shoulder, probing to find where bone ended and cartilage and ligaments began.  They crashed into the walls and floor and door as she tore through skin until what was underneath was no longer unyielding.  The sounds he made when she wedged a claw into the joint and worked it deeper and deeper was satisfying.

His thrashing became more wild.  Which ended up helping her efforts; as she pulled his arm one way, the rest of him pulled another.  When it finally gave, they both fell on their asses.  The intercom was screaming something in a language she couldn’t understand anymore as she discarded Ustanak’s arm.

Ustanak leaned against the wall as he forced himself to his feet, while she slammed into him.  He tried hitting her with what was left of his right arm, she held him at bay.  He drew his head back and tried to slam into him; she bit his face.  Claws hooked through flesh and muscle and whatever was underneath, and the room began to reek of blood and entrails.

He dropped, sliding down to the floor, and looked up at her as she leaned in close, digging claws in.  That anger he had when she bit him was gone, and if she could read emotions in that face, he looked at her like he had when first sizing up her changes.  In wonder maybe.  In awe.  In love.

The bastard didn’t even have the decency to hate the monster that was pulling him apart.

The door was locked.

She wondered.

The door was meant to keep her locked up.  Maybe a J’avo.  Bigger B.O.W.s were often impossible to really deter physically.  She never really talked about it, but both Claire and Leon had mentioned how impossibly strong her father was.

And if nothing else, she was quite like her father now. 

She ended up landing on her face outside of the cell; she clearly overestimated the door, threw all her strength into the charge, and went through.  She got up, frame filling the hallway.  She was out now, now what?

If they had been keeping her here, they might be keeping Jake.

Jake.

He was… thoughts were entering her head, about what to do when she found him.  That snowy night in the mountains—as much as it was a trashy romance novel come to life—it was nice, their little conversation before things went South.  She liked Jake.  He wasn’t sadistic like Ustanak was.  He would be a good…  She could… Jake Mueller was her mission.  She had to get him to safety.  She had to ignore those impulses.  She would find them, they would get out of here, and then whatever happened, happened. 

As long as she kept that in mind, that she needed to keep Jake safe, she trusted herself to search the facility for him.


End file.
